afe Deposit place. That young
secretary, Selwood, swore that it was on the little bunch the day of the
murder, that he saw it at three o'clock in the afternoon. What did Jacob
Herapath do with it between then and the time of the murder?"

"Yes--that's a great point," asserted Carver. "We may hear something of
that this afternoon--perhaps of all these points."

But when they went back to the densely crowded court it was only to find
that they--and an expectant public--were going to hear nothing more for
that time. As soon as the court re-assembled, there was some putting
together of heads on the part of the legal gentlemen and the Coroner;
there were whisperings and consultations and noddings and veiled hints,
palpable enough to everybody with half an eye; then the Coroner
announced that no further evidence would be taken that day, and
adjourned the inquest for a fortnight. Such of the public as had
contrived to squeeze into the court went out murmuring, and Triffitt and
Carver went out too and exchanged meaning glances.

"Just what I expected!" said Carver. "I reckon the police are at the
bottom of all that. A fortnight today we'll be hearing something
good--something sensational."

"I don't want to wait until a fortnight today," growled Triffitt. "I
want some good, hot stuff--now!"

"Then you'll have to find it for yourself, very soon," remarked Carver.
"Take my tip--you'll get nothing from the police."

Triffitt was well aware of that. He had talked to two or three police
officials and detectives that morning, and had found them singularly
elusive and uncommunicative. One of them was the police-inspector who
had been called to the Herapath Estate Office on the discovery of the
murder; another was the detective who had accompanied him. Since the
murder Triffitt had kept in touch with these two, and had found them
affable and ready to talk; now, however, they had suddenly curled up
into a dry taciturnity, and there was nothing to be got out of them.

"Tell you what it is," he said suddenly. "We'll have to go for the
police!"

"How go for the police?" asked Carver doubtfully.

"Throw out some careful hints that the police know more than they'll
tell at present," answered Triffitt, importantly. "That's what I shall
do, anyhow--I've got _carte blanche_ on our rag, and I'll make the
public ear itch and twitch by breakfast-time tomorrow morning! And after
that, my boy, you and I'll put our heads together, as you su